Win For Me
by thatcrazypixie
Summary: Sherlock and John are both brilliant young engineers from District 3, but brilliance isn't something that keeps you out of the reaping. And when Sherlock's name is called, John does the unthinkable. In an arena that is designed to not only kill you, but break you, can Sherlock keep John strong? Or will new feelings and new faces get in the way?
1. I Can't Let You Go

**a/n: Very first crossover! I hope you like it. Please review and let me know if you want me to continue this story.**  
>"Sherlock Holmes!"<p>

The crowd let out a collective sigh of relief, formed by all but two of the children standing in the middle of the square.

The two of course were none other than Sherlock Holmes, and John Watson; Sherlock because he knew what was to come, John because he would not stand to see his friend go to the Games.

District 3 nodded solemnly at the chosen tribute as he slowly made his way to the steps, maybe in some districts being chosen was an honor, but not here. Here they were too busy engineering the technology that would run the games to worry about training to win them.

Moments before Sherlock took to the steps to take the announcers hand and be deemed Tribute, he whispered, "Shut up, John."

Before anyone could mention that John hadn't said anything, the young man screamed, "I volunteer!" in the shocked silence that followed, he elbowed his way through the line of Peace Keepers and "I volunteer as tribute," he said again; nodding his head as if affirming his own statement.

"John, please," Sherlock said staring at the ground.

"I can't let you go, Sherlock. I can't."

Sherlock could all but feel his heart splitting, John was the last person he wanted to see hurt, and now he was probably going to end up dead because of him. "I'm sorry, John," he said finally realizing there was nothing he could do.

He turned and fell back in with the ranks of students, most of them already whispering plans for the following day. It wasn't a normal thing, reaping one of their number to sacrifice in battle, but it was something that the children of Panem had grown accustomed to. As long as you or your friends name wasn't called, the reaping was like any other holiday.

For many times, it had been just that for Sherlock and John, an excuse –if a terrifying one- to get out of classes. Not that Sherlock really needed a break from such easy classes, but it was nice seeing John enjoy a small break. Usually it was that is, except this time they won't be spending the evening practicing mind-palaces or doctoring teddy bears. They'll be saying goodbye.


	2. Hope This Works

Never one without some form of plan, Sherlock took a few steps back from the stage, waited until the attention had properly switched to John, and sprang into action. The odds may be against them, but Sherlock had a few tricks up his sleeve. He wanted his friend to make it home, no matter what.

He felt the collar of his shirt to make sure it was still there before going in to wish his friend luck. They weren't given long to say goodbye.

As the door was closing, Sherlock embraced John in an awkward hug. "They must think we're saying goodbye" he whispered into his short friends ear.

"Isn't that what we're?" John started to ask, confused.

"Yes but we're also trying to avoid it being a goodbye." Sherlock said, business-like. "We don't have time and I know you'll morally object to what I'm about to do, so hold still."

"Hold still for?" John said cautiously, but if he was expecting Sherlock to answer he was mistaken because just then the Holmes boy slapped him across the face, hard.

"For God's sake Sherlock!" he yelled, his hand flying to his ear. "What on earth was that for?"

"If it worked, you'll know in an hour. If not," Sherlock said, a hint of emotion just slightly in his voice, "best of luck, friend."

John didn't expect anyone else to visit him after Sherlock, his parents having left long ago to work at the capitol. He tells himself they would've taken him with them had they had the option, but in truth no one's quite sure. Now John's relatively thankful that his parents aren't around to mourn as he prepares for the games. The first time they'll see him is on the screen. _Serves them right,_ he thinks to himself, an air of bitterness creeping in. But John isn't one to let bitterness get the better of him, and instead he grits his teeth. He's going to prove everyone wrong.

The door swung open again much to John's surprise, and in the doorway stood John's childhood friend, Molly. Molly and John had been good friends once, but as seems to always be the case between boy and girl friendships when puberty hits, they had had a bit of a falling out. Not in anger, but slowly, silently, perhaps more painfully. That's the way Molly saw it at least, if they had had an argument at least then she would know why her friend had stopped coming to play.

"Molly," John said, trying hard not to stare at his friend. The young girl with the pigtails he remembered playing with so seemingly long ago was gone, and in her place stood a beautiful young woman. "Molly, I'm so sorry…" John said, walking over and taking her hand.

"Don't be sorry, John. Anyone who knew anything about you two knew you would do it for him," she said.

"No, not that," John stammered. "I'm not sorry about that, well…I am of course, but…"

Molly looked at John intently, she could guess what he was trying to say, but knew he needed to say it for himself.

"I'm sorry I stopped coming to see you," he finally choked out.

"It's okay, John. For a long time I missed you…but I realized you must have more important things to do than visit a silly girl."

"Molly Hooper, you are many things." John said, a bit of his determination sliding back into his voice, "But don't you ever call yourself 'just a silly girl' the truth is I stopped coming 'round for two reasons, the first is I wondered if you still wanted to see me ; And the second, because there is someone else who longs for your attention more than I."

Molly was about to ask when John nodded.

"You know who I'm talking about. Keep him safe," he said hugging Molly and kissing her cheek.

"John, I know this is supposed to be a goodbye but…" Molly said, "Do try and win… for us?"


	3. He's Not Here

The train ride to the capitol looked as if it would be uneventful, so John locked himself in his quarters. As far as he was concerned, this train was nothing but a premature casket. He was sure to be dying soon. A knock sounded on the door which he ignored.

Suddenly he heard a very high pitched whining in his ear. "Ow!" he yelled.

"John?" The knock on the door sounded again, loudly. "John are you alright in there?" It was a girl.

Of course, John thought, the female tribute. She was there at the reaping. He hadn't been paying much attention, too full of adrenaline about having volunteered to pay attention to anything that happened directly afterward.

The buzzing in his ear started back up again.

"John!"

"I'm fine. Please go away," John yelled again, holding his ear in a desperate attempt to stop the static.

"I certainly hope you're decent, because I'm coming in," the girl said fiddling with the lock for just a moment before it swung open. A smug smile played on her lips.

The static finally went silent and just faintly John could make out a voice. "John. Can you hear me?"

"Sherlock?" he whispered.

"Sherlock's not here…" the girl said slowly, mistaking the look of confusion on John's face for one of disappointment.

John bit his lip instead of retorting, knowing that the two tributes had few friends as it were. It wouldn't due to make unnecessary enemies.

"I know he's not here," he said, "I just thought I heard his voice. It was nothing but a daydream. I'm sorry, what was it you needed?"

"Oh, I don't need anything," she said plopping down on to the edge of John's bed, "I just wanted to see who fate chose as my final friend."

She didn't say this bitterly; in fact she was cheery about it. It was a bit off-putting to John.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well volunteering in someone's place from a District like ours shows quite a bit of character, and I admired that. I thought it would be nice to make your acquaintance before I go to die." She said.

"You seem quite sure of that," John said. She didn't seem sad about it, so he didn't quite know how to react.

"We're all going to die eventually; I'm not going to take someone else's life just for the sake of preserving my own –just as mortal and temporary- life. No one can really buy extra time," she said.

"That I think is equally admirable. When I volunteered, I expected to go, get killed and be done with it. Sherlock could go on living with his family, maybe grow up to have as normal a life as a mind like his may allow. I didn't think anyone in the District would miss an orphaned kid. I didn't want to be responsible for taking lives either," he said slowly, biting his lip deep in thought.

"Did something change that?" she asked gently.

"I made a promise before I left to a friend I thought had forgotten about me," he said very slowly.

"You have more friends that I think you realize, John." The girl said smiling.

"Yeah, that's what the promise made me realize. I can't go in to that arena with the intent to throw my life away, when I have so many incredible friends wanting me to make it home," he said.

"I understand that of course," she said, 'but I wonder if our opponents have friends and family rooting for them as well?"

"I just can't afford to think like that."

"Okay, well I know you're name…would you like to know mine?" the girl said, the grin coming back.

John admired her, a girl with the courage to think of others even in the face of her own death.


	4. There is Hope

Sherlock and Molly sat on the edge of town that evening, a cloaking device Sherlock had created hiding them from the peace keepers.

"So this device should allow you to speak to John?" She said in fascination, turning it over and over in her hands as he spoke.

"Yes it should," he said passively. He couldn't really attempt it until John was alone and the other tribute would not leave his quarters.

"Do you think he can do it Sherlock, do you think he can win?"

"You don't want me to answer that question, not really. You don't want to know if I think he can win. We both know his odds. You want to know if there is any hope."

"Is there?"

"There is hope so long as you have it. Johns smart and his medical and survival knowledge will prove useful in the arena. I suspect he'll find allies shortly."

"That will destroy him I think," Molly said brushing her lips with her thumb thoughtfully, "to meet new allies but know that you can't both survive, I know that would destroy me."

Sherlock pursed his lips in consideration at the thought. The moral compass could be so extraneous and problematic it would seem. For a fleeting moment he wished John were less a person and more like the robots they worked within their district. But only fleetingly, because a robotic John would not be John at all.

"You know what, I think he can do it," Molly said stubbornly, "I think he can win."

"Then there is hope," Sherlock said.

The days that followed were long and uneventful in the districts, with only a screens glimpse daily into the bustling hub of the Capitol.

Sherlock and Molly watched in disgust as their friend was groomed and primped and made to feature in talk shows as if this was really just a game. Anyone in the districts knew that this wasn't a game, it had never been a game.

District 3 was charged with the often offensive task of creating the arena as if a board for the 'game' to be played across. Every tribute was looked at as only a pawn. For years, Sherlock had been desensitized to the idea and assisted in creating an arena that would bring about the most thrilling scenarios, the most interesting deaths.

Fortunately for John, this was the year which Sherlock had lost interest and grown bored, even before his name was called and John volunteered in his place. In retrospect, Sherlock wondered if the game makers could have possibly known what he had done and made sure his name was drawn for that very reason.

It didn't matter now, nothing did. Nothing but ensuring Johns survival of course. Sherlock pressed gently on the device in his ear and said, "John. Come in, John."

And then he waited.


End file.
